


i got love up in my pocket (and i don't know what to do with it)

by lunarumbra



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confessions, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, hinata is best friends with the entire pro-volleyball community and he is Powerful because of it, or idiots to lovers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28340958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarumbra/pseuds/lunarumbra
Summary: I’m not necessarily looking for anyone at the moment, Sakusa had said,but I’m not against the idea of dating.Hinata replied with an enthusiasticDuly noted, Omi-kun!, mock salute included. In hindsight, he really should have considered how odd the entire exchange was.Or: Hinata unknowingly plays a part on how Sakusa realizes he might have feelings for Atsumu.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 258





	i got love up in my pocket (and i don't know what to do with it)

Like most of Sakusa’s internal dilemma, this one also begins with Hinata.

Said middle blocker is helping with his post-training static stretching, palms warm against Sakusa’s back as he pushes him to the floor. Atsumu is typically his partner for cool down but sunshine incarnate himself begged the setter to trade places just for today and - well, no one is immune to Hinata’s smile so Atsumu acquiesced and leaves Sakusa for Inunaki. 

He’s quiet for a total of thirty seconds before he opens his mouth and prattles at record speed. “Omi-kun,” he whispers, “listen, listen! I have top information just for you. I’m personally a big fan of surprises but I figured you and your cloudy attitude isn’t so I’m just going to spoil it for you, okay?”

That would have sounded absolutely condescending if it came from someone else’s mouth (say, Atsumu’s) but even Sakusa is not resistant to Hinata’s charms. He grunts to indicate he’s listening.

Hinata leans in closer. “Washio-san is planning to ask you out during our next practice match!”

Sakusa flits through the metaphorical cabinets in his brain to summon whatever information he has on him. 

_Tatsuki Washio_ \- Furukodani Academy alumnus and EJP Raijin’s current middle blocker with a powerful jump serve. 

Not a stranger but not quite a friend, either. It only takes Sakusa a few seconds to come up with a decision.

“Not interested,” he replies. It sounds muffled considering that his face is practically pressed against the gym floor but Hinata hears it regardless and says something about being concerned about Sakusa’s dating life - “Or the lack thereof, Omi-kun!” - and Sakusa mentally hopes for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

His mind takes him back to what seemed to be a very unassuming dinner with Hinata two weeks ago. Conversation is easy with him and while Hinata does have the tendency to ramble and oftentimes forget to use a softer voice when out in public, Sakusa does appreciate the sincerity in every word he says. And he might not admit it out loud but it’s nice to hear stories about their mutual friends. Mainly because he enjoys hearing about their chaos and dumbassery and Sakusa needs a good laugh once in a while, but also because he gets curious too, okay, so sue him.

Hinata’s rambling at that time revolved around their friends’ dating lives and Hinata was sharing what he called his ‘hot takes’ on Kuroo and Kenma’s recently announced engagement. He went on a very dramatic speech about wanting ‘that kind of love’ as if he wasn’t in a serious relationship with _his_ high school sweetheart. 

One of Hinata’s many talents is keeping Sakusa involved in the conversation, so naturally he was asked about his stance on romance and if he was seeing someone at the moment. 

_I’m not necessarily looking for anyone at the moment_ , Sakusa had said, _but I’m not against the idea of dating_. 

Hinata replied with an enthusiastic _Duly noted, Omi-kun!_ , mock salute included. In hindsight, he really should have considered how odd the entire exchange was. 

A lapse of judgement, if you will, and here he is, reaping the consequences two weeks later.

He comes up from his middle split and then bends over his left leg. His fingers easily reach the tip of his shoes. “Who even told you about this?”

The amount of names that come tumbling out from Hinata’s mouth is dizzying. It starts with ‘Washio-san told Komori-kun who told Rintarou-san who told Osamu-san who told Akaashi-san who told Bokuto-san who told Kuroo-san who told Tsukishima and Yachi _of all people_ who told so and so and so’. 

Kageyama’s name was even thrown in there too but he thinks it has more to do with the fact that Hinata has no amount of self-control when it comes to sharing stories with his partner rather than Kageyama being directly involved in the chain.

An inter-volleyball team gossip system at the tip of Hinata Shoyou’s hands sounds absolutely, _absolutely_ terrifying. He makes sure to be extra careful around his teammate from here on out.

“Give him a chance, Omi-kun!” Hinata says. “Just one date!”

“No, thank you. I do appreciate that he’s interested but I’d rather—”

_—go on a date with Miya,_ is what his brain supplies.

Then: silence.

Not quite in the literal and physical sense because there is a zero to none chance of quiet in their homecourt knowing full well who his teammates are but it’s the Sakusa-brain-shut-down sort of thing where he momentarily forgets how to function and nearly astral projects to a different plane of existence.

Luckily for him, his brain catches up before his mouth could open. Unluckily for him though, he pushes his stretch too far from the shock and Hinata’s weight crushes him instantaneously.

“What the hell.” Sakusa laments gracelessly.

The profanity is largely attributed to the mental realization and emotional whiplash rather than Hinata’s entirety pressing against him but he appreciates the man’s quick reflexes either way. He springs a few steps back in lightning speed and literally screeches, “Omi-kun! Are you alright? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. You good?”

The apology that streams from his lips catches Atsumu’s attention from the other side and of the court and he promptly abandons Inunaki. “Sorry, Wan-san!” he says but he doesn’t even sound remotely apologetic, and practically skips his way to their area.

“Shoyou-kun,” he singsongs and Hinata visibly shakes. He’s like a bird caught in a cold shower, Sakusa thinks. “What are ya doin’, injuring my spiker like that?”

Sirens blare in the confines of Sakusa’s skull.

_My spiker,_ Atsumu says but it’s _My Sakusa_ that registers in his brain. He is overcome with the urge to bite his knee as he comes down to stretch over his right leg. “I hate you both,” he says and it comes out sounding like a garbled mess.

“What was that, Omi-omi? See Shoyou-kun, ya broke him!” Atsumu says, completely unaware that he has a hand in the on-going ruin of one Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

“Wan-san’s lookin’ for ya, anyway.” He playfully pushes Hinata by his shoulders. “Says I’m torturin’ him. I’ma take over now. God knows ‘m the only one who knows how to handle Omi’s body.”

The sirens double in volume.

If he were a lesser athlete who didn’t care for his body’s well-being, Sakusa would have gotten up and abandoned his stretching regimen, double jointed limbs be damned to stiffness for tomorrow’s practice. But he’s one of Japan’s Top Aces who cares for his health, so he compartmentalizes his internal turmoil, chucks his newfound feelings for Atsumu to the metaphorical vault in his brain, locks it, throws the keys to the metaphorical incinerator, and wills himself to relax at the setter’s touch.

“Alright, alright!” Hinata says to Atsumu, and much to Sakusa’s chagrin, he addresses him again and says: “Consider what I said okay, Omi-kun? Just one date!”

_This_ has Sakusa springing up from his stretch. 

“Hinata,” he growls and Hinata’s self-preservation skills kick in overdrive as he sprints to seek protection from his wrath. 

He might have his back against him but Sakusa just knows there’s that trademark half-smile on his lips. He confirms it when Atsumu maneuvers Sakusa to lie on the floor for a spinal twist. The angle allows Atsumu to loom over the spiker ( _his_ spiker _)_ and just as Sakusa guessed, there it is: the telltale smirk of amusement on his face. “What was that ‘bout?” he asks.

Sakusa pointedly looks away.“It’s nothing.” 

“Yer quite literally blushing, Omi-omi. Is Shoyou-kun perhaps hitting on ya?”

“We all know Hinata has at least twenty different plays in his head for when he proposes to Kageyama.”

“It’s a yes or no question, Omi-kun. And really? _Plays?_ ” Atsumu snorts. “Anyone ever told ya how obsessed ya are with volleyball?”

“Are you complaining?”

Atsumu releases his grip on his leg and moves to the other. “Nah. But really, what was that ‘bout? Please don’t tell me yer following in his footsteps. Am I really gon’ watch one of my spikers go all lovey-dovey with the other team again? Can’t say I advocate for this ‘sleeping with the enemy’ guerilla tactic. Lemi tell ya Omi, it’s not effective. Ya know the number of times Shoyou-kun was able to get Tobio-kun to tell ‘im about their team’s strategies? Yer right - zero. So I don’ think ya should go for Ushikawa, nope, not on my watch!”

“Do you really think Hinata is just dating Kageyama to sabotage him? And what the fuck does Wakatoshi-kun have to do with any of this?”

Atsumu snorts. “ _Wakatoshi._ Yer on a first name basis now? Wonderful, Omi. Rip my heart out from my chest and crush it with yer first, I bet it’ll hurt less.”

Sakusa exhales a quiet laugh. “If that’ll finally shut you up.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes. Then with sudden seriousness, he says: “Well I hope ya find yer happiness or whatever.” 

He doesn’t grace that with any more replies, quite busy trying not to picture what a perfect date with Atsumu would be like because, well, _that’s_ probably what’s going to make him happy at the moment. Maybe. Possibly. 

He also pointedly tries not to pay attention to Atsumu’s silence.

*

Once the initial shock of his realization has been drowned out by logic, he figures that whatever dating-related thoughts he had for the setter had been mere byproducts of today’s fatigue. Pair this with the fact that Atsumu was on his peak performance today _and_ managed to score more service aces that he did - well, Sakusa may be a competitive person but he knows when to appreciate another person’s skills. 

He also figures that _of course_ it’s only logical that he prefers Atsumu’s company over Washio’s because of his avoidance of strangers. Washio is a good and reliable person - Komori said so himself - but he’d known Atsumu for far longer, so _of course_ his brain supplies that comfort and safety should be his priority.

(Not that he’d ever admit that he associated Atsumu with safety, knowing full-well the many ways the setter is a public hazard most of the time.)

Whatever!

The point still stands: he’d choose Atsumu’s presence over someone he hasn’t even had the pleasure of talking to outside the court. Hell, he considers Atsumu his _friend_ \- maybe that’s why his name came up to his brain in the first place.

Then he backtracks. His brain does that mental gymnastics it often does when he’s overthinking things.

_Wait -_ Hinata is his friend too. So are Bokuto, Adriah, and Inunaki — so why didn’t his traitorous lump of neurons think of taking _them_ out on a date if he were merely basing this on friendship?

He amends: right, because they’re all in their own happy and healthy relationships and it would be morally incorrect to even consider them in the first place.

_How does their relationship even work?_ he once overheard Atsumu tell Hinata when Bokuto brought Akaashi with him for one of their celebration dinners. 

Hinata giggled, drunk on the ridiculous amount of alcohol Atsumu not so subtly kept pushing his way. There’s a growing number of shot glasses in front of him and he attempts to drink from an empty one. _But they’re cute!_ comes Hinata's butchered slurring. _Sometimes the quiet needs the loud, some balance, the ‘woosh’ to the ‘fweeeh’ and the ‘shhh’ to the ‘boom’. Even Kageyama agrees with me on this one! For example, you obviously need someone quiet and Omi-kun needs… Needs someone like you_ — 

_Alright Shoyou-kun, time for_ **_ya_ ** _to be quiet now. Where’s the ‘hmm’ to yer ‘waah’ when ya need him?_

_Exactly! See! That's what I was trying to tell you, Atsumu-san!_

Sakusa snaps his eye mask aggressively over his face and tries to go back to sleep, all while cursing Hinata in his head.

Stupid Hinata, and his stupid gossip circle, and his stupid top secret information, and his stupid drunk rambling, and his stupid ideas.

*

**_Sakusa Kiyoomi_ ** [ _11:53:00 PM]: You’re buying me lunch tomorrow._

**_MSBY Hinata Shoyou_ ** _[12:04:27 AM]: did i do something wrong_ _(″ロ゛)_

*

Despite his earlier protests, Hinata does buy him lunch - true to his sunshine persona and all that. Washio’s name doesn’t come up for the entirety of the day either and he manages to score no-touch service aces for three consecutive times. His joints feel extra limber and every jump he makes gives him the impression that he is taking flight. 

Every ball that comes his way fits his palms perfectly. Leather meets the floor, the whistle blows, and the deafening shouts of _Nice kill, Sakusa!_ fills the gymnasium when he delivers the winning point for their last practice set.

Expectedly, Atsumu helps him with his stretching. It’s routine but something seems misplaced - namely: Atsumu’s incessant chattering. He’s oddly subdued considering that they just won the match with his perfectly set toss. He expected at least some gloating or a sliver of whining since Atsumu lost today’s tally for service aces; the absence of both regrettably grates against his nerves. 

_A silent Atsumu means an overthinking Atsumu_ , was Osamu’s foreboding warning.

Sakusa sighs. “Alright Miya, out with it. What’s gotten into you?”

His reply is a series of mumbles, though that might be due to the fact that his face is squished against his knees. 

“Come again?”

“I said,” Atsumu exhales and comes up from his attempt at reaching the tips of his toes, “I’m trying not to panic ‘bout my date tonight.”

Sakusa pauses. He waits for the punchline.

It doesn’t come.

“Huh,” is what he says in lieu of a proper reply because what is he supposed to say when he suddenly feels choked up and there’s a metaphorical little Hinata-shaped creature stabbing annoyingly at his chest?

Atsumu huffs. “Yer not the only one who gets to go on dates, Omi-omi.”

“I’m just surprised you’re worried about something so trivial.”

“It’s been a while since I went on one, alright?” Atsumu rolls his eyes as if admitting it out loud physically pains him. It probably does. “I don’t even know what I should wear. And if I’ll be interesting enough. I made the mistake of askin’ ‘Samu for advice and ya know what he said? He said I should just be nice and be my normal self.”

Sakusa lets out an amused huff. “You obviously can’t be both.”

“I hate agreeing with ya yet here I am.”

“Agreeing with me?”

“Agreeing with ya.”

They pause for a moment before they burst in their own versions of laughter. Atsumu is crescent-eyed and he impossibly yet perfectly enunciates _aha-ha-aha_ while Sakusa merely exhales an air from his nose but he’s entertained, if the tiny smile and raised eyebrows are anything to go by.

When they’ve finally calmed down and Atsumu is at the end of his stretching routine, he admits: “I’m not even sure if I really want to go. It’s a blind date thing that Aran set up. It’s not really my style. Feels weird, ya know? I’d rather go on a date with someone I already know and am comfortable with.”

He fakes a cough. “Then don’t go. Why did you agree in the first place anyway?”

“Ya can’t say that to me, Omi-omi. My teammates are dating left and right. I’m bound to get jealous. And it’s a weekend! Who am I s’pposed to bother? Bokuto is goin’ to be on the phone with Akaashi the whole night, Shoyou-kun’s going to _canoodle_ with Tobio-kun. _Yer_ goin’ to do the same, I’m sure, so spare me the details. Snakes, ya both are. Where does that leave me?”

Sakusa cycles through a number of thoughts as soon as Atsumu finishes talking. First that rings loud and clear is Atsumu’s easy admission to jealousy, to wanting something that should have been so easy and certainly attainable for him. And there’s the heavy admission of Atsumu feeling _left out_ — his vulnerability is not a novel thing, Sakusa has seen the many times Atsumu has let his walls down, but the verbal honesty is quite new.

This, he thinks, is probably the realest and rawest admission he would get from Atsumu.

The invitation leaves his mouth before he could even reconsider. “I don’t have plans tonight. We can have dinner at my place, if you decide against going to your blind date, or whatever. It’s up to you.”

Not the best thing he’s ever come up with but the damage has been done. Atsumu gives a noncommittal hum and Sakusa knows better than to let his hopes up.

And yet here Miya Atsumu stands three hours later, freshly showered and wearing his stupidly oversized Doraemon shirt and gray sweatpants, caught midway from a yawn, in front of Sakusa’s apartment door.

Naturally, he closes the door right at his face as soon as he opens it because why _, why_ does he look like the poster child for the word ‘comfortable’ after his spiel about his ideal date and —

“Yer such a gremlin, Omi-omi! Ya forget to close yer mouth while yawning once and yer suddenly the grossest guy within a five mile radius. Knew ya were fakin’ the invite!” He prattles on and on as if that was the issue. 

Sakusa eventually lets him in and Atsumu practically waltzes straight to the kitchen, as if he has already memorized where the pots and pans are from the first two times he crashed in Sakusa’s apartment. 

And it’s a little jarring to see someone look so utterly cozy in his own home, in _his space_ , rummaging through his cabinets, fishing out his spatulas and silently cheering _Aha!_ when he successfully locates a utensil.

Sakusa just lets it happen despite his turmoil, knows he really can’t do anything to quell the deeply ingrained Miya Family trait to tyrannically rule over a kitchen, whoever’s house they are in. He’s made the mistake once and cooking dinner with a backseat chef like Miya Atsumu was not a fun experience. That night he discovered that the number of times one can get criticized for cooking eggs is quite astronomical. 

Atsumu makes quick work in the kitchen and serves miso soup and tonkatsu. He also materializes two cups of chocolate pudding from the only konbini Sakusa frequents because for some reason Atsumu remembers that tiny detail about him, and maybe, just maybe, this little crush he has harbors for Atsumu is more than the volleyball athleticism he was trying to convince himself of the other night. The thoughtfulness sticks to him like melted sugar.

Dinner is uneventful, which is to say Sakusa only threatens to kick Atsumu out twice. Atsumu also only spits out rice once from laughing at his own joke. 

Normal, in Sakusa’s standards. 

Atsumu extends his stay and plays some crime movie starring Sakusa’s favorite actress. Sakusa welcomes the intrusion. They take turns guessing the plot and what was supposed to be an hour-and-a-half long film turned into a three-hour marathon because Sakusa kept pausing the film just to argue with whatever Atsumu is saying. 

At some point in the night, they’re leaning on opposite sides of the couch, with Sakusa’s legs stretched in the space between them and Atsumu’s knees knocking against his foot every once in a while. Sakusa’s stupidly large peach blanket is draped over their legs and Sakusa’s brain once again supplies unkindly: _This feels comfortable._

He wonders if Atsumu is thinking of the same thing.

He wonders what this means for both of them.

It’s twelve o’clock when Atsumu decides to leave. “Choose the movie next time, Omi-omi.” He yawns and rubs the exhaustion from his eyes.

“You sound awfully confident that you’re getting another invite.”

Atsumu smiles. “I’m sure I am. C’mon. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Sakusa doesn’t.

He wonders. 

He wonders for the rest of the night.

*

Atsumu cried thrice at the film Sakusa chose the week after. He looked incredibly gross and Sakusa laughed every single time he heard Atsumu sniffle at his corner of the couch. He took a lot of pictures, sent a few to Osamu, and kept plenty more for himself.

_Why are you here?_ is how Sakusa greets Atsumu at his third unannounced visit. He opens the door anyway. Atsumu waves a deck of Pokemon cards in front of his face and declares war.

Atsumu laughs and makes his way to the kitchen; it’s routine by now. Then: _I like it here. Nights are better when I spend ‘em with ya._

Sakusa watches him cook dinner.

*

Their practice match with the EJP Raijins falls on a Saturday. Komori practically runs up to Sakusa when they arrive at the Jackals’ homecourt, bringing with him thunderous energy and months worth of _Kiyoomi, how have you been!_ as if they don’t chat or call each other every Sunday.

Suna and Atsumu are also trapped in their own bubble. They’re both laughing at a story Suna was sharing and then they’re taking a few photos together, no doubt with the intention to send them over to Osamu and the rest of the Inarizaki alumni later.

Another mini-reunion is happening between Washio and Bokuto. Hinata has joined in on their conversation but he stops whatever he was saying when he catches Sakusa looking at their direction. He tries to discreetly wiggle his eyebrows - keyword being _tries -_ and then shoots what Sakusa thinks is supposed to be an encouraging thumbs up on his way.

High school vendettas make the practice match with the Raijins all the more exhilarating. Atsumu baits Suna like prey, and Komori makes sure to shoot a prideful grin whenever he perfectly bumps Sakusa’s serves. Every score feels victorious just as every block feels frustrating. The quick Atsumu and Hinata have perfected get shut by Washio, as well as Bokuto’s cannon bomb of a spike, and the Raijins claim the second set as their own.

During the interlude before the third set, Sakusa sees Atsumu staring at his hand as he routinely flexes and extends his fingers. Meian checks on him once or twice and Atsumu brushes off his concern with a smile but Sakusa could see the cracks in his mask clearly.

He holds his hand out for Atsumu. 

The setter narrows his eyes. “What?”

“You’re injured.”

Atsumu scoffs. “Am not,” he says but winces lightly when Sakusa unexpectedly pinches his middle finger.

“You’re about to be.” He says. “Give me the tape.”

Atsumu reaches for it but then hesitates at the last second. “I haven’t washed my hands.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to do it in the first place. Give me your hand already, Miya. If we lose because you suddenly can’t block properly, you’re buying me dinner.”

“Here I thought ya cared for me.” 

Sakusa rolls his eyes and takes Atsumu’s hand in his and inspects it carefully. His middle finger isn’t gravely swollen but the way he had flinched earlier meant that he must have hurt it when he was attempting to shut out the winning spike from Washio.

“I care about not losing to Motoya. A number of my childhood photos are at stake here, Miya.”

Atsumu, the devil, smirks. “Oh? This is exactly the type of quality content I signed up for. Maybe I won’t even mind losing today if we get to see yer baby pictures.”

“If we lose, you’re buying dinner for the rest of the week.”

“Ya could just ask me on a date like a normal person, Omi-omi. Would’ve been easier on the both of us, ya know?”

Sakusa halts and his mind takes him back to his conversation with Hinata, the jarring realization that came along with it, and his stupid brain whispers again: _rather go on a date with Miya, rather go on a date with Miya, rather go on a date with Miya_ like some age-old chant that needs curse breaking. 

Atsumu clears his throat. “That was just a joke, jeez. Ya look like yer ‘bout to murder me. “

He throws the tape roll. “Tape your index finger yourself.”

Atsumu catches it with ease and does as he’s told.

The third set is just as gruelling as the last. Komori manages to bump Sakusa’s serve again despite its hurtling speed. The rally seems to stretch as long as an hour even if it had just been mere seconds, neither of the teams willing to bend the knee for the other. Inunaki digs and the ball is up again; it makes it over the net but the Raijins manage to keep the ball in the air and retaliate with a resounding spike from Suna. Hinata receives the ball with grace and it’s maneuvered over to Atsumu’s field. 

_Omi!_ he commands, and Sakusa heeds the call and jumps to give justice to Atsumu’s toss. It’s perfect. The ball seems to be suspended, waiting just for him. Skin meets leather and —

_Not yet!_ Komori’s eyes hold hunger as he dives. _One more!_ the Raijins scream and the ball is set to the right side of the court. Sakusa runs and he jumps just as Atsumu does and they erect a wall to stop Suna’s spike. His ruthless power breaks the block and the ball makes past their arms. 

Sakusa hears Hinata’s shoes squeak as he lunges in an attempt to save the set but they hear the unmistakable sound of leather hitting the court.

  
A beat of silence, then a whistle. The Raijins take home the victory.

When they come to shake hands, Komori grins in triumph and says, “What should I post tonight? The kindergarten photos or the awkward high school ones?” and if Sakusa grips his hand too tight and for too long, well, they could just say it’s a family thing.

They’ve just finished their stretches when he catches Hinata’s eyes on him again. Compared to his normal level of gremlin behavior, Hinata seems to have upped the level of his mischief today, and he doesn’t realize what it’s about until Washio comes up to him with a polite smile and a hand raised to say hello. 

“Great game today, Sakusa!” he says and then pauses three steps in front of him. He returns the greeting with a nod. Washio’s smile widens for a fraction, and then he inhales.

Sakusa thinks he knows what’s going to happen next, if Hinata’s gossip is anything to go by.

“I was wondering,” he starts and Sakusa tries not to flinch from the fact that this is happening in front of their teammates. 

Washio continues: “I was wondering if you would be interested to go out tonight. On a date. With, uh, me.”

And _there_ it is. Sakusa could practically feel the thumbs up Hinata and Bokuto are most likely shooting towards their direction. He could definitely see that Komori is pointedly trying not to stare. Meanwhile, Suna and Atsumu’s loud chatter behind him dies in an instant. 

He expected some form of teasing from the setter, or maybe some half-assed rambling about Sakusa’s dating life, maybe even sneer at him for ‘canoodling with the enemy’ as he often liked to say. It’s a wonder how he manages to ignore a loud audience during official games but it’s Atsumu’s silence that bothers him the most. 

_I’m not interested,_ is what he wants to reply but what unexpectedly comes out of Sakusa’s mouth is an explanation easily misinterpreted: “I’m sorry but I’m already going out with Atsumu.”

_To dinner._ Tonight. Because they lost against the Raijins. And they had a bet. And Sakusa wagered. _And I’m not interested, I’m sorry_ was supposed to follow that awkward reply, but Washio is suddenly bowing and spewing apologies at rapid speed. 

“Sorry! I didn’t know! Shoyou-kun told me you’re - and well, Motoya even told me that - ahh, nevermind! I’m sorry for making things weird.”

Sakusa stares back. 

“Sorry, Atsumu-kun!” Washio sidesteps and offers a sheepish grin to the setter. And then he’s laughing at himself, ears red, and goes his merry way like nothing happened.

Sakusa clears his throat, pointedly keeps his back to Atsumu and Suna, makes his way to the shower rooms, and decides that everything that has happened thus far is undoubtedly Hinata’s fault.

*

Atsumu shoves a plastic bag full of takeout when Sakusa finally relents to his incessant knocking. “Three minutes,” he says dramatically, “ya had me knocking for three minutes straight. World record, Omi-kun.”

“I don’t remember inviting you.”

Atsumu retaliates. “I don’t remember cancelling our dinner either!” 

Then he parades to the kitchen, washes his hands, wipes the table, washes his hands again, and then proceeds to lay out their plates and chopsticks. “Well?” Atsumu gestures. “Are we goin’ to eat or not?”

Between them are the wide array of food that Atsumu brought with him. They have a can of beer each - a celebratory drink of sorts for surviving a gruelling training with the Raijins, and the staple chocolate pudding Sakusa has come to expect every time Atsumu comes over.

Sakusa is taking a sip from his glass when Atsumu finally breaks and asks: “Have we been dating all this time? Like, are we in a relationship? ‘Cause that’s pretty much what ya told Washio-san earlier, ya know?”

Sakusa blinks and feels his face flush from the sudden barrage of questions.

A pause. “No, I mi—”

“‘Cause let me just tell ya Omi, yer dating skills are horrible. Atrocious, even. I can’t even rate ya from a standard scale ‘cause I really want to give ya a negative score.”

Sakusa takes a moment to process what he just heard. It also takes a few seconds for him to register the smirk on Atsumu’s face. He glares. “What did you just say?”

“Yer doing a terrible job at bein’ my boyfriend, is what I’m sayin’.” Atsumu’s shrugs. “First and foremost, ya always make me wait for an _eternity_ outside yer door when I visit. Then ya don’t even hold my hand! Pet names, Omi, where are the pet names?”

“You talk as if you’d make a better partner. Last I heard, you haven’t been dating in a while.”

“ _Partner._ ” Atsumu rolls his eyes and then points his chopsticks directly at Sakusa. “You can’t even say the word boyfriend. I’m already winning this by a mile.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Atsumu’s lips lift into the most infuriatingly arrogant smirk Sakusa has ever seen. He’s issuing a challenge, or perhaps an invite to some kind of twisted courtship ritual that only Atsumu exclusively knows of. 

“You’d be the worst person to date.” Sakusa bites back, unable to resist.

Atsumu arches a brow and then slowly reaches for Sakusa’s hand across the table. Sakusa doesn’t break eye contact and keeps still, only flinching by a slight tremor when Atsumu puts his palm atop his hand. Sakusa doesn’t pull away. Instead, he focuses on the new warmth on his skin and the calluses on Atsumu’s hand. Atsumu presses their skin closer, and then taps his index finger thrice, a window of opportunity for Sakusa to tell him to stop but still he doesn’t, and Atsumu takes it as permission to intertwine their fingers together.

“See?” Atsumu breathes out after a beat. Sakusa thinks his face mirrors the same redness on Atsumu’s. “I’d hold yer hand like this, Omi-kun, and keep ya warm ‘cause yer always complaining about how cold ya are. I’d hold yer hand when we’re walkin’, when we’re watchin’ movies, maybe even when we’re threatenin’ our opponents on the other side of the net.”

Sakusa keeps their gaze locked and then flips their hands over. Using his thumb, he strokes across Atsumu’s palm and traces every line on his skin. He feels for his scars, for clumsy kitchen burns, for the constellation of gashes that he knows are there. He observes Atsumu’s fingers; they’re dextrous and skilled but also brutish and roughened. They’re the same fingers that point out a teammate’s faults, accusing and taunting, yet the same ones that guide and teach. 

It's the same set of fingers that prod and push at Sakusa, but also the same ones that pull him back to safety and comfort. 

His thumb slows down its lullaby on Atsumu’s skin and Sakusa says carefully, “And this is how I would hold yours.”

_With reverence._

_With awe._

Atsumu looks away, flustered. 

The action makes Sakusa laugh and the moment breaks, if only for a second. “Looks like I’d make the better partner after all.”

“Would ya, now?” Atsumu responds and then pulls him by their intertwined hands; Sakusa braces himself against the table with his other arm and glares at Atsumu with little ferocity. Before he could say anything, Atsumu peppers a kiss on Sakusa’s knuckles, feather-light lips against his skin. Atsumu is looking at him with a soft expression, his eyes hiding in them a quiet determination. 

Sakusa remembers sitting on their front porch once, when he was young. A typhoon was approaching and his heartbeat pulsed to match the pace of their windchimes that grew more frantic with each blowing gust. And now looking into Atsumu’s eyes, he is reminded of that memory and he envisions himself caught in the eye of the storm, and his heart thunders inside his chest without mercy.

The chair grates on the floor when Sakusa stands to cross the space between them. Atsumu meets him halfway, his own chair almost toppling to the floor from the sudden movement. Sakusa’s hand rests on his cheek, a light touch, and Atsumu steadies himself with both hands on Sakusa’s hips.

It’s Atsumu who breaks the reverie. “I told ya, ya could’ve just asked me normally. I would’ve said yes.”

“Are you saying yes now?”

“Yes to what, Omi? You haven’t even asked me out.” Atsumu huffs petulantly, which earns him a light pinch on his hips. 

“Now you just want the satisfaction of hearing me say it first.” Sakusa arches a brow. Being able to perfectly read Atsumu is a blessing and a curse in itself, he thinks. 

Atsumu laughs and then shakes his head. “I want ya to be my _partner_ , Omi-omi.” He tries his best effort not to snort at the word. “I want to hold yer stupidly cold hands, I want the awkward transition from friends to boyfriends, I want to be so annoyingly romantic with ya that it’ll make Shoyou-kun wish he were dating either of us instead.”

“The last part was very unnecessary and you know it.”

“Yeah, yer right. Sorry, I’m just nervous. Just say something already. I know yer going to say ya like me too but if ya reject me, I might have to quit the team and beg the Adlers to take me in.”

“What is this? Sleeping with the enemy, Miya?”

Atsumu groans and rests his forehead on Sakusa’s shoulder. “Oh so now you decide to be funny. We have to work on yer timing, Omi.”

Sakusa doesn’t say _I like you too_. He doesn’t even speak at all. Instead, he raises Atsumu’s head and then leans in closer, pressing his lips against Atsumu’s cheek. “I guess I can be romantic just for you,” he whispers in the space between them.

Atsumu smiles, delighted.

*

**_Sakusa Kiyoomi_ ** [ _10:19:23 PM]: What do you want for lunch for tomorrow? My treat. And Atsumu’s._

**_MSBY Hinata Shoyou_ ** _[10:27:19 PM]: ooooooo╰(✧∇✧╰)_

**_MSBY Hinata Shoyou_ ** _[10:27:45 PM]: hehehehe_

**Author's Note:**

> if you reached this part: thank you for reading! please let me know what you think! you can find me [here ](twitter.com/for950808)on twitter, where we can yell about sakuatsu and haikyuu in general together ♡
> 
> this fic idea is born from a headcanon that sakusa and hinata are actually best friends, and i just went with it.  
> fic title from rich brian's 'love in my pocket'.


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